


I think you're headed for a breakdown, so be careful not to show it

by MediumAquaMarinePresence



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Good Brother Diego Hargreeves, Good Brother Klaus Hargreeves, Good Brother Luther Hargreeves, Good Brother Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 20:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20534024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediumAquaMarinePresence/pseuds/MediumAquaMarinePresence
Summary: The Hargreeves get better, get worse, get better again, and most importantly, get a tremendous amount of very expensive therapy.





	1. Talking Stick

**Author's Note:**

> Expanding on tags, may contain spoilers:  
\- Klaus describes in medium detail (method, at least) suicide attempts  
\- Therapy sessions happen in the story, I've never been to group therapy so I did my best given my research and own experience in one-on-one therapy  
\- The focus of the story is on PTSD symptoms and how they manifest in Klaus, and to a lesser extent Five. 
> 
> This story takes place in an ambiguous "averted apocalypse" universe. 
> 
> I didn't intend for this story to make any one character look "better" than another, more that they're complicated people hurting in complicated ways and try to figure their shit out together.

Diego, Vanuya, and Allison all had lives to get back to, eventually. It was a difficult transition for everyone, Luther seeing Allison off, Klaus helping Diego move into a new apartment, and everyone watching with bated breath as Vanya went back to music. But once the dust had settled and things had begun to return to normal, Luther very abruptly realized he was now sharing a house with Klaus and Five. Well, Klaus, Five, Delores, Ben, and whatever ghosts Klaus dragged home.

  
And honestly, at first Luther was excited. The house had been so empty before, but now it was cozy and noisy and full of life. But as time went on, it was a bit… too lively. Conversations between the three living and sentient members of the Hargreeves family went sideways quickly, Five or Klaus talking about nonsense or getting irritated or upset and fleeing. Often he would find Five and Klaus screaming at each other, in tears, Five with a gun in his hands and Klaus with Dave’s dog tags in his, in the middle of the hallway at some terrible hour of the morning. It was awful. Neither of them was saying anything coherent, they were both wrapped up in whatever they were experiencing and taking it out on one another. So Luther just stood between them and tried to get them to each go back to their rooms.

Luther, on some level, was aware both his brothers had issues. Five was married to a mannequin, while Klaus was sober and possibly dating a ghost, but more often than not yelling at nothing. Neither of them seemed particularly aware of the passage of time, both of them constantly asking Luther what day it was. Klaus spent a lot of his time in a cleared out office space with a laptop and a suspicious amount of empty chairs, while Five could either be found at the bar or in the library. Luther was happy to leave them to it, only… things didn’t seem to be getting better. Klaus was sober, and apparently sobriety brought on just a tidal wave of emotions that overwhelmed all their interactions. Thankfully for everyone, though, on top of the family therapy they all received twice a month, Klaus both attended NA and had a personal therapist. Five, on the other hand, had no therapist. His pride and tough exterior likely prevented it, but he did sit through their family group therapy. It was only when Klaus got ahold of a megaphone and started yelling back at the ghosts at all hours, that Luther decided something had to be done.

For the most part, Luther didn’t understand what his brothers did. He didn’t understand why neither of them ate or slept regularly, why neither seemed able to hold a normal conversation, why they always seemed on edge like they were looking for a threat. But they were suffering, and Luther was going to be damned if he didn’t try and help. Only. Well. He had absolutely no idea on how to help them. Neither wanted to talk, or even acknowledge their behavior, so he’d have to figure it out.

One day, though, Klaus came home from therapy and dropped all his stuff as soon as he was through the door before scampering away to be by himself. Luther could leave his brother his space, but he picked up after him, putting his shoes by the door and hanging up his bag and picking up the pamphlet he dropped. It was Klaus’s, so he didn’t mean to read it, only the title caught his attention: PTSD Diagnosis. He didn’t open the pamphlet, simply tucking it into Klaus’s bag, but at least now he had a lead he could work with. And he set to work.

Google told him plenty of things. Firstly, it told him that PTSD stands for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. And if Klaus had anything, it was certainly a stress disorder. He became overwhelmed easily, and acted like he was under a lot of pressure. Thankfully, there was a lot about PTSD on the internet, so at least Luther had some things to try, to keep his family from completely falling apart.  
The first step was to offer to go to doctor appointments with Klaus. While it seemed simple, it actually took some sleuthing to figure out when and where his psychiatry appointments were. Wednesday, 2:00 pm. But since Klaus took public transit, he left around 1 pm, so Luther had to start very early to start with his persuasion. “Let me drive you,” he said, which he had thought was a good compromise between an order and a plea, but by the look Klaus gave him he hadn’t succeeded.

“Why? You afraid I’ll get lost?” Luther didn’t want to say that Google had told him he should.

“It’ll be faster than the bus, and I know you can’t drive,” he reasoned. Klaus fidgeted, eyes darting around to what was no doubt a ghost or something. He looked down to where he was tugging his sneakers on, then back up at Luther.

“You really want to?” he asked, a tad perplexed. Luther felt a little insulted. Klaus never asked if Diego wanted to drive him places, but here he was pretending he was going to refuse Luther? Then again, he didn’t have a lot of reasons to trust Luther. He trusted Diego.

“You can even choose the music,” he tried, wondering why it was so difficult to coax Klaus into things that made his life easier.

“Fine, fine,” Klaus acquiesced with a private sort of smile, “but this was your idea.” Klaus had music on a lot nowadays, or maybe he always had, and Luther just hadn’t lived with him for over ten years. So he had some pop on in the car, and Luther let him.

“Does the doctor help?” Luther asked. Klaus shrugged.

“Something to do, at least.”

“Do they give you any medicine?”

“Nope. Don’t think they trust me with all that. I don’t trust me with all that.” Google had said Luther ought to help keep track of medication, so it was a bit of a relief to find nothing had been prescribed to Klaus. And Luther even got to meet the psychiatrist, a kind, middle aged woman almost the same height as Vanya, unassuming as she shook Luther’s hand and greeted him as “Klaus’s brother”. Before disappearing into the office Klaus assured him it wouldn’t be too long. Luther had brought a book, and waved it at Klaus to show him he could take as long as he needed, but he was already gone.

An hour later Klaus returned, and Luther was expecting him to be tired or upset or drained. But he wasn’t, he was chatty, babbling about nothing important as they drove. Luther couldn’t say he knew Klaus all that well, despite the fact they’d grown up together, but his brother did seem a little more relaxed on their way home than their way there. He didn’t seem like he’d been crying, but maybe crying was ok. Their family therapist had told them their emotions were valid and ok to express. Which they apparently took to mean they could rip each other apart in spades.

Family therapy had been rough. Their therapist was young, which didn’t help her case, and overwhelmingly optimistic. She had come in with ideas about trust and love and vulnerability, but had been reduced to shouting for them to calm down and respect the talking stick. So quickly they had gone from being treated like complicated but competent adults to toddlers. Her name was Jennifer, and they were all very weirded out calling her that, but she at least imposed some semblance of order, like a referee, and she seemed to handle their powers and issues about as well as anyone could.  
Family therapy always made most of them cry. And that was maybe a good thing, Luther thought, because of how much trouble they used to get in for crying as kids. Vanya cried the most, and when she did, everyone seemed to react poorly. Most fights started over whatever made Vanya cry, Luther attacking Diego for whatever mess he’d made of her feelings, Diego pushing back, Klaus always jumping in on whatever side caused the most drama. Five was the quiet one, for once, never engaging in what was going on, often informing everyone it was a waste of time. When they skyped Allison in she tried to be the adult in the room, but too often got caught up by Diego’s viciousness.

Jennifer finally caught onto an idea that stopped them all in their tracks. “It seems to me,” she said, holding the talking stick up to remind Diego to be quiet, “that despite the fact you all grew up together, you don’t know much about what it was like for the others.” Luther wanted to ask what she meant, but she had the talking stick. It was a literal stick, picked up from under the oak tree in the courtyard, bedazzled by Klaus with rhinestones and glitter that fell everywhere when it was passed around. It was so like them, Jennifer hadn’t planned on needing a talking stick to make a bunch of adults shut up, it was haphazard and a little panicked. So Luther raised his hand and received the talking stick.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked. Jennifer took the talking stick back.

“I think you each spent a lot of your childhood isolated from each other.”

“Divide and conquer,” Diego grumbled.

“The fuck do you not get about the talking stick?” Five interjected, and Jennifer waved the stick around to refocus them.

“All right, let’s regroup. Diego, would you like to say anything?”

“No.”

“All right. But the mood I’m getting from the group is that you maybe need some time to talk about that thought.”

“Ben wants the talking stick.” Everyone looked at Klaus, who was curled up with his bare feet on the sofa and knees tucked under his chin. Jennifer passed him the stick, which he dropped onto the chair he set out for Ben. Everything was quiet.

“Klaus.” Luther couldn’t help it, nothing was happening. Klaus’s head snapped up and he put a finger to his lips. Belatedly Luther realized Klaus was listening to Ben, and was going to tell them what he said. Even though it would be easier to make him visible. After a long moment Klaus took the stick.

“Ben says,” he began, “that Jennifer is right. There’s a lot we don’t know about what it was like for everyone else. He says…” Klaus winced, obviously not wanting to continue, but he soldiered on, “we should all share. Some things. About what it was like.” Jennifer took the stick back.

“I think Ben has a great idea there,” she said sweetly. “Would Ben like to start?” Klaus was fairly chewing on his nails, but he accepted the stick back and plopped it down on the chair. And again nothing happened, but Luther was almost sure Klaus was not about to transmit Ben’s childhood trauma. So after a few seconds of tense silence, and Klaus nibbling his nails, he finally looked at the chair and made Ben visible. Not corporeal, that was difficult, but at least now they could hear him.

“Hi.” Ben looked around at them. Then at Klaus, who pulled himself from his thoughts long enough to give him a smile and a thumbs up. “Dad used to use a cattle prod on me.” In the wake of such a confession, even Diego was silent. “When I couldn’t get the… horror… to behave, to do what he wanted… and it’s not like it was me, so much, but it…” Ben took a deep breath. “It didn’t hurt like it was me he was using it on, but I could feel her pain. Like an echo of it.” Luther reached out a hand that went straight through Ben’s shoulder, and awkwardly tried to get Klaus’s attention. Klaus understood, and with a deep breath he was able to pull Ben into this world a little more, enough for a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Luther asked. Ben shrugged.

“I… everyone got special training. I thought it was something everyone was going through. Or. Or maybe it was because I was a failure, like it was a punishment or something.”

“I thought the same thing,” Allison said suddenly from the laptop set up on the chair beside Ben’s. Klaus discreetly tucked the talking stick next to the computer. “He could be so cruel during our personalized training, I thought… I thought he thought I was the most useless member, I was the worst.” Klaus nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed, voice so soft and gentle. They were all quiet for a long while, even Diego.

“And we all know what Vanya suffered,” Diego said eventually, eyes darting to their sister. “The world fucking knows.”

“Talking stick, Diego!” Five cried. Jennifer was already holding her hand out for the stick, which Luther passed over to her.

“I think we’re all sharing a lot of important things. Let’s try to stick to I statements, if we can.” Klaus held out a hand, very suddenly, for the stick, eyes wide and a little manic looking. It was almost cute, like a kid waving their hand in class, ready to answer a question.

“I think,” he said, “we all think we had it worst.”

“That’s not how I statements work,” Five countered, “you can’t just put I think in front of whatever you were going to say to begin with.” Klaus looked up at him, looked at the martini he had in his hand, and hurled the talking stick right at him.

“I’ve got the fucking stick,” he whined, as Five blinked out of the way in time to save his drink. Diego lunged for the stick and waved it around.

“I’ve got the stick now!” he crowed. Jennifer snatched it back, and she did a good job of not looking enraged.

“Let’s start over,” she said, taking her seat once more and looking around at the group. “I think Klaus had a good idea. Everyone here was hurt by your upbringing, and there is space enough for all of that. We can make space for that. What I’m going to do, is put all your names in a hat. That way it’s a random order. When your name comes up, we’re all going to give you space to share what growing up was like for you.” Everyone exchanged worried looks. “This is for our next session. In the meantime, take some time to think about what you’d like to share.”

“A homework assignment?” Klaus asked.

“Vanya can just bring her damn book.”

“Diego!”

“Next session let’s leave Diego out,” Five grumbled.

“Or duct tape his mouth,” Luther suggested.

The team didn’t isassemble like they usually do after therapy. They sit around, moping, talking, yelling, crying. In order to avoid Diego’s brooding, Luther accidentally finds himself witness to Klaus and Vanya having a heart to heart on the couch. Sometimes Luther found it hard to believe he and Klaus were raised in the same house, as Klaus was clearly raised by wolves who didn’t know how to sit on furniture. He was completely sideways, legs curled up to his chest, facing normal sitting Vanya. “I know you feel like everyone is against you,” Klaus was saying, “but you’re not the only one who feels that way.” Vanya reached out and laid her hand over his bare foot, which was devoid of polish today, Luther noted.

“I know,” she told him.

“I just, I wanted to say…” Klaus trailed off and jerked around, looking at something no one could see. “It just. It breaks my heart, ok, that you saw all the shit we got put through and all you wanted to do was hop in on it.” Vanya let her head fall back, staring up at the ceiling. “Like the tattoos, right? Who- I don’t know who you have to be to see all of your siblings crying and in pain and wish you could be hurt too.”

“Dad raised a bunch of assholes, what can I say?” Klaus shook his head in frustration.

“No, not what I’m saying. I’m just- it’s not normal, ok?” he finally spat out. “No normal kid is going to react like that.”

“So I’m fucked up.” Klaus threw his hands up.

“It’s- Vanya, it’s what he wanted,” he cried. “He wanted you jealous and isolated and hating yourself, ok? And every time you do, you’re giving that bastard satisfaction in the fucking afterlife, ok?” Klaus reached out to her then, grabbing her shoulder. “He got in our heads and he turned us against each other and now we all have issues and really expensive therapy and a fucking talking stick. But we don’t have to keep playing this stupid game.” Vanya looked over at him.

“What?”

“Oh, are we finally listening, hmm?” Klaus shook his head. “Christ you people are exhausting. But back to what I was saying. That man is in our heads, ok. And we gotta get him out. He wanted you isolated, and boy did we play into that. He wanted all of us to feel like the weakest link, so we wouldn’t stand up. Little army of murderers, right? It’s only gotta work if they don’t outnumber you.”

“We did outnumber him.”

“Nah. Not in the slightest. Each one of us was on our own, it was never more than one vs one with him.” Klaus leaned back and scrubbed his face with his fists, letting out a groan of frustration. “Christ I need a drink. I thought therapy was supposed to be good for sobriety.” There was silence, when Vanya looks like she might say something, but evidently Ben beat her to it when Klaus started yelling at him. Luther was just glad he didn't have his megaphone right then.

Five popped into the living room, looking them all over. “Good, that’s three of you,” he said. “Let’s go find Allison and Diego and get going.” Vanya looked up and around until she spots Luther, but Klaus doesn’t. Maybe the ghosts told him he was there.

“Where are we going?” Luther asked, moving to join the others.

“Doughnuts.”

* * *

Allison went first. They all promised to be quiet and “give space” for what she had to say, whatever that meant. “I felt like a weapon,” Allison began, reading from a notebook over Skype. “He always used me against you all. Like a… like a tool.” Vanya nodded emphatically. “He only made me feel special, made me feel useful, when I was keeping the rest of you in line. Other than that, he was so cold. So cruel.” Allison licked her lips and Luther wished she was here, so he could give her a hug. “I spent- no, I wasted, too much of my life wanting his attention. And it’s like I never had enough, I had to go get it from the world. Like if people weren’t paying attention to me I wasn’t worth anything.” Luther’s heart ached at how much he empathized with that. But it was Diego’s turn next.

“Dad was a monster,” he began, but a look from Jennifer reminded him to talk about himself, not Reginald. “I’m just… pissed off, all the time, all day. I’m pissed off at how he treated us, how we were just things to him. Numbered things. And it’s like-” Diego cut himself off with a strangled sound, hands balling into fists as he looked away. Easily, as if he’d done it a million times, Klaus moved from his spot to sit on the arm of Diego’s chair, petting his hair lightly. “I’ve tried to move on, but I just can’t shake that feeling, that I’m not… human. I keep doing shit like helping people is gonna make me human, but it doesn’t, I just feel like a tool with a brain. Like I’m only serving a purpose, and I’ll only ever be a tool, but the least I can get is choosing how.” Diego hunched over, at first Luther thought maybe he was trying to get away from Klaus’s comforting hand, until the broken sobs reached his ears and with shock he realized Diego was crying. “Eudora always wanted me to show more emotions, to talk to her, but I- e-e-every time I t-t-tried, I could hear his fucking voice calling me weak.” Klaus draped his arm over Diego’s shoulders, not really looking at him, more looking out into space, unfocused.

“And my stutter,” Diego whispered. “He said he would- I don’t know if he meant it, but I believed him. He said. He.” Diego took a shuddering breath and raised his face, splotchy, tear stained, snot running down over his upper lip. Klaus handed him a kleenex, but while he took it he didn’t use it. “He said electroshock- he was gonna-” Diego collapsed once again, shuddering with the force of his sobs.

“He said that?” Luther asked in disbelief. Diego’s stutter had gotten better with age and Grace’s careful love. Had Dad been angry about it? Had he belittled him in front of them, ever? It was hard to remember. They teased Diego a little, yeah, as kids. Grace made them stop. But what had Dad said? Had Dad said anything? Panic was beginning to rise in Luther’s chest because he couldn’t remember anything clearly, trying to conjure a specific memory of Dad excluding or belittling Diego. “He- he never let you speak to the press,” Luther finally spoke up. Everyone looked at him. “I- it’s a little hazy, but when we were kids, he didn’t let you talk to reporters. He let me, though, and Allison. And Klaus, come to think of it.” Slowly, everyone seemed to agree on that fact. And no one seemed to know what to do with it.


	2. Dr. Google

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luther does some more googling.

Google told Luther it was important to listen. And he was trying, and willing, but maybe it was important to let them know that. He spent more time with Five, reading in the library or drinking at the bar, so he tried him first when he was calm and had a martini. “I want to listen,” Luther blurted out, which got him a mildly confused look from his brother. “I don’t want you to be worried about burdening me. About talking about it.” 

“About what?” 

“About what you went through,” Luther answered. “I’m willing and able to listen.” Five said nothing. “Not that you have to talk right now. Or ever, if you don’t want. Only. If you want, you can.” 

“What’s gotten into you?” Luther considered telling him about Klaus’s pamphlet and his own subsequent google searches, but decided against it. 

“Just. Just trying to be a good brother,” he answered. Five grunted. So no dice there. 

Luther was unsure about Klaus. Everyone knew what Five had been through, but Klaus was tight lipped. There was an army tattoo, and dog tags, but as far as what he’d gone through, Luther didn’t even know which war he’d been launched into. Plus, Klaus was… difficult to talk to. The only time Luther could really get him to sit still and focus is on the car rides to therapy, so he tried then. “If you want to talk about it, you can,” he told him. “I would listen.” Klaus snorted. 

“Oh yeah, I’m sure,” he groused. Ok, so Luther probably deserved that. It wasn’t like he’d been a great listener for the first 29 years of their lives. 

“I want to listen,” he tried. “I’m willing and able to listen.” Klaus shot him a look that stated, quite clearly, if Luther was not currently chauffeuring his ass he would have some choice words about that assertion. “Not that you have to talk. I’m not pressuring you to talk about it. But if you wanted to.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Klaus murmured. “I spend all my time either thinking about it, dreaming about it, or trying to distract myself from it. I don’t want to start talking about it too.” Luther didn’t really understand that, but then, he thought, maybe Klaus was talking about more than the war. 

“If you ever want to.” 

* * *

Their next family therapy session it was Luther’s turn to share. He was worried that what he has to say wouldn’t make his siblings like him any more, or wouldn’t make up for his mistakes. It felt like he has to tailor his story to what they’ve said, to “make space” for their pain. But that isn’t what Jennifer said to do. “I’m still sort of new to the whole… Dad was an asshole party,” he began, looking down at his printed notes. “And, uh, I mostly feel… stupid. And used. And stupid for being used for so long. Kinda like what Allison said, I feel like I was a weapon. I got used against you. All of you.” He swallowed thickly, not looking up. “And I want to apologize.” 

“What, are you twelve-stepping now?” Luther glanced up sat Klaus. 

“What’s that?”

“You and I are gonna have a roaring good time these next few months. Er. Continue.” Luther looked back at his paper. 

“Allison. There was a mission, we were… we were in New York, there was Dr. Terminal. It’s a little fuzzy, only I’ve been thinking about it a lot. You had a good suggestion, but I knew if we did it and it worked, I’d get in trouble. I was supposed to be the leader. So I didn’t listen to you, and you got hurt.” Luther wondered if she still had the scar on her hip from it, but he didn’t ask. “I lived my entire childhood terrified of disappointing him. I was so scared of punishment. He could be so mean, and I just justified it all away. He would yell at me until I vomited.” His hands were shaking, when had they started shaking? “He made me feel like every mistake was my mistake. So if someone else messed up, it came down on me. And I took it out on the rest of you. I did his dirty work for him. I took it upon to police all of you more than he ever could.” Luther shook his head, trying to clear his vision. Abruptly there was a hand on his shoulder, a blue, translucent hand, and he looked up into Ben’s calm face. Ben, who was dead so he probably had bigger problems than Luther’s childhood, but who was taking the time and energy to be here and comfort him. Physically comfort him. The tears rolled in fat drops down his face then, and he hurried to wipe them away. Vanya passed him a kleenex, which he took and blew his nose loudly before balling it up in his pocket. He wanted them to say something, anything, but maybe that wasn’t what making space was about. 

“For what it’s worth,” Diego said suddenly, looking up at Luther seriously. “Better late than never to the Fuck Reginald Hargreeves club, right?” 

* * *

Things changed, after that. Or maybe Luther just imagined they did. Klaus seemed a little more interested in including him in things, bringing him into conversation, asking questions. It turned out Klaus has a lot of artistic projects going on, and offered to make a knitting circle with Luther. It made Luther a little bit sad, at first, because he didn’t even know Klaus knew how to knit, until he saw Klaus knitting and realized that he actually didn’t know how to knit, and that there was some ghost grandma trying to tell him how to do it. “What do you even do with all your time?” Klaus asked, a little too loud. Luther wanted to ask him to be quieter, but he took a moment to think about that. Jennifer had been encouraging them to reflect on their behavior before they acted. So he thought: why would Klaus be loud? First instinct was to blame drugs or Klaus’s abhorrent personality, but when Luther really took a moment to look at him, his hands shaking as he tried to loop his stitches properly, occasionally, muttering a curse toward nothing, he realized Klaus was probably being loud today because ghosts were talking to him.

“Read, a lot,” Luther replied. “I missed a lot of stuff when I was in space.” 

“Mmm.” Klaus looked up. “So living off the estate, eh?” 

“What?” 

“No job?” 

“No, no job. I… well. I didn’t go to school, I don’t actually have a degree in anything, and I’m pretty sure you can’t put “superhero” on a resume.” Klaus accidentally undid an entire row and swore violently. 

“You could get a degree,” he pointed out, tossing the knitting aside. “You got the money and the time.” 

“What about you? You could get a degree too,” Luther returned. Klaus rolled his eyes. 

“Oh yeah, sure, sure, in what exactly? You’re the one interested in astrology and math and shit.” 

“Astronomy.” 

“That too.” Klaus picked his knitting back up. “I was going to get into astrology, back in the day, but you know what stopped me?” 

“Hmm.” 

“We’re all fucking Libras. How am I supposed to be unique and original when everyone in this family is a fucking Libra?” 

“Pick a different sign then,” Luther said. “Can’t be that hard, right?” Klaus chuckled at that. 

* * *

Google said to plan family activities together, like a movie or dinner. Dinner was where Luther started, because he was still unused to being back on Earth and around so many people. 7pm every day, he called Five and Klaus down for food. Grace made it, of course, but didn’t eat any of it, simply sitting with them and nodding along politely with their conversation. To his surprise, his brothers complied, hardly putting up a fuss over it. Five ate strangely, he never turned anything down and always horked it down as fast as possible, as if it might disappear if he didn’t do it fast enough. 

Klaus was the opposite, he hardly seemed to notice the food on his plate, and he spent more time pushing it around than putting it in his mouth. Had he always eaten like that? Luther was unsure, but it was no way to eat now, not when he was steadily losing weight. And Luther wondered when he had noticed that. Still, he could get one good, solid meal in his brothers a day, and he wasn’t going to stop. Routine. Normalcy. Except nothing was ever normal for them. 

Luther looked down at the index cards he had brought, conversation starters from the internet. “So,” he said, trying to draw attention from the food to the company. “What was the best part of your day?” Klaus blinked, looking around. 

“Full disclosure,” he whispered, “I just woke up.” 

“Really?” 

“Yup.” 

“What about your yesterday.” Klaus drummed his fingers on the table. 

“A little unsure on that, partner,” he said with a chuckle, “what about you?” 

“I finished A Theory of Time and Space.” 

“Was it good?” 

“Yeah.” Klaus’s eyes got glossy for a moment, before he was hurling a fork at Five. Apropos of nothing, out of nowhere, like his usual attacks on his brother were these days.

“And why are you sitting there so smug?” he snarled. 

“That was uncalled for, Klaus!” Luther shouted, and mentally kicked himself because raising his voice never helped anything. This time was no exception, Klaus’s eyes going a little feral as he stared at Luther with an expression like a cornered animal. Honestly it was a bit scary, seeing him like that, but Luther was determined to make this dinner thing work. “Sorry for yelling,” he said, as softly as he could, holding up his hands. Klaus sat back down. 

“Why did you throw that at me?” Five groused, taking a sip of his wine. 

“Because I’m sick of your stupid fucking face,” Klaus told him. Desperately, Luther snatched another conversation starter card. 

“If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?” he called out, hoping to refocus them. 

“Give it a rest, Luther,” Five groaned, downing the rest of his drink. 

“Somewhere quiet,” Klaus blurted, sounding just as desperate as Luther felt. “Like the bottom of the fucking ocean.” 

“Stop being so dramatic.” 

“Where would you go?” Luther asks before they can get bogged down in another argument. That seemed to catch Five off guard, and he has to take a moment to think about it. He even sets his glass down to do it. 

“Istanbul,” he said at last. “I was there, for a job. And it. It was nice. I’d like to go back, and not have to kill anyone.” 


	3. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus has a turn during family therapy.

Once again they were all seated around in the living room, Jennifer politely looking them over with her notepad balanced on her lap and the talking stick in her hand. “Today, we’re going to listen to Klaus,” she said gently, and looked encouragingly at their brother. Klaus, overall, was looking not great. Since the not-pocalypse, he hadn’t looked great, he’d stopped eating and sleeping, was distracted, agitated, and twitchy. Today, though, was especially bad, he had curled and uncurled himself on the couch several times before the session even started, he was picking at his skin, rocking back and forth, startling at nothing. Luther would have offered for Klaus to go another day, but this was the last sibling who had yet to share. When his name had come up before he’d just said “pass” and left it at that. 

“It’s… not that I don’t want to,” he began slowly, staring down at his toes. “Just. This stuff is kind of… a big deal for me, and I don’t… or… I don’t want to, and I don’t know if I can… deal with…” he gestured vaguely and fell silent. 

“What is it you can’t deal with?” Jennifer pressed. “You can tell us.” 

“But that’s the thing,” Klaus grumbled. “I keep this shit to myself because I know you won’t believe me, and… and I can’t handle that, ok? Like my options are pretty limited here.” 

“We don’t believe you because you lie, all the time,” Allison said. Diego shot her a glare. 

“Yeah, but, we’re not doing that anymore,” he said. “We… we didn’t believe about Ben, and that was our mistake. But we’re going to believe you.” 

“Even if it’s… like… really weird or something?” 

“Especially if it’s really weird,” Vanya assured him. “We’re listening now. Maybe we haven’t… in the past. But we’re here now.” Klaus took a shuddering breath and looked at Ben’s chair, before his eyes were back down on his feet. 

“He locked me in a mausoleum, when we were ten. And when we were eleven, and twelve, and thirteen. Fourteen he gave it up.” Klaus wrinkled his nose. “The ghosts there were… horrible. The _ worst _. Worse than warzone ghosts. They were these ancient things, they’d lost so much of their humanity, and all the would do was claw at me and scream and beg me to help them. He left me there for… for days at a time, sometimes, and I don’t know what he told you all to keep you from asking questions. Sometimes he would pull me from bed, middle of the night, rain or shine. Honestly some of those times are a blank, the… the experiments. That’s what Vanya called it, right? I didn’t know what to call it. Training, I guess? I’ve blocked it out, a lot of it. I think he tried to drown me, or, or something, I remember being held underwater. And he made me walk over hot coals. I remember he ran all these tests, to see my reflexes and pain tolerance and… fuck. I don’t know. I don’t know what the point of any of it was, why he did half the shit he did. All I knew was that it hurt and if I cried then I’d be kept there longer.” Klaus took a deep breath. 

“You know I tried to kill myself? Three times, when we were eleven and twelve. Ha. I don’t know if any of you knew that.” A high, nervous laugh left his throat. “The first time I snuck a razorblade into the mausoleum. It wasn’t very effective, but when I passed out from blood loss at least the ghosts shut up. Dad had Mom patch me up, and I think he thought it was an accident because he kept calling me clumsy. Thought maybe I tried to fight off the ghosts with it or something. Second time we were twelve, I didn’t know about the cameras so I did it in bed. Didn’t work then either, cause… the cameras, I guess. Mom patched me on up then too. The third… I ODed. Just whatever pills I could get my hands on. And Mom pumped my stomach, so yeah, didn’t work then either.” 

“I stopped, though. Dad had them laser off the scars on my arms, and holy fuck did that hurt. Turns out you can have it done with anesthetic, which fuck me but I didn’t know that until well into adulthood. Dad said it was my fault, my choice, and I’d have to live with the pain.” 

“Why did you stop?” Allison asked. Klaus shrugged. 

“They gave me vicodin for my broken jaw, and I guess I just found my first hit. I started using after that, which made the ghosts… I stopped seeing them as much. I didn’t really feel the need to kill myself after that.” Klaus looked up and shrugged. “I was useless when I was high, I had no powers, couldn’t follow instructions, couldn’t respond properly to punishment. It made him leave me alone.” Luther had been looking at Klaus, wondering why no one was comforting him, when he glanced up to see Diego. Diego was on his feet, entire body wound tight, hands balled into fists, fairly shaking with rage. “I guess I believed him, a little bit. Sometimes I still do. I’m ashamed of what I did, how I handled things, the person I was. I feel guilty about it all the time. And I can’t help it, I think suicide was the cowardly thing to do. If I had been a stronger person, I could have faced Dad and the ghosts and come out swinging. But I wasn’t, I was-” 

“Don’t say that.” Vanya shakily made her way over to the couch Klaus was balled up on and put her arm around his shoulders. “Don’t say that, and don’t think that. You were the one who told me he wanted us hating ourselves and each other. You going to give him the satisfaction?” Klaus made a noise that was maybe laughing, maybe sobbing, and fell into Vanya’s arms. Luther sat there, like the rest of them, absolutely dumbstruck. Even Five wasn’t prepared to hear all that. Shouldn’t they have noticed? Were they really that self-centered they missed three entire suicide attempts? He wanted to ask about that, God, he wanted some higher power to answer if he was an asshole here for not noticing, or what it meant that he hadn’t. Had he yelled at Klaus? Had there been a mission, had there been a fight, that preceded these things? Was it his fault? 

“Reginald is lucky he’s dead,” Diego growled suddenly. “I’m gonna dig him up and kill him all over again.” 

“Diego, let’s try to focus on Klaus’s feelings,” Jennifer told him gently. “Klaus, do you want to tell us how you’re feeling?” Klaus gave a choked little laugh and sat up, scrubbing at his face but smiling. 

“Thank you,” he said, with gut-wrenching sincerity. “Thank you so much for listening.” Luther’s heart broke a little, and a glance around at everyone else told him they all felt the same. 

After the session Vanya stuck around. Klaus was knitting on the couch in the living room, content by himself, so Luther decided it was safe to pull her aside for a quick heart to heart. “That was pretty intense,” he started, by way of opening up the conversation. 

“You can say that again.” They were at the kitchen table, and it was quiet, but Luther wondered if someone was keeping an eye on Klaus. 

“Klaus hasn’t been doing too great,” Luther tried to explain. “This really isn’t what I thought sobriety was going to be like for him.” 

“What did you think it was going to be like?” 

“I don’t know. Better than this. That he’d get a job. He’d take care of himself. He’d… I don’t know. Not this.” 

“He told us, he doesn’t have a lot of options.” Vanya didn’t seem to think this was a big deal, which was a bit annoying. She liked Klaus, she liked Klaus the best out of all of them. “And he’s doing this for all of us, not just himself. So we could stand to be a little more supportive.” 

“How long has it been?” 

“Sobriety? Jeez. Four months?” Vanya shrugged. 

“I need your help, Vanya,” Luther told her. “Can you… do you think you can?” 

“You need help with Klaus?” 

“Yeah.” Vanya leaned in, curious, a little bit of sympathy returning to her expression. “Can you teach me how to paint his nails?” 

“What?” 

“He hasn’t. Makeup, too, not since… well.” 

“I asked him about that, actually,” Vanya said, and yeah she said it partly to show Luther wasn’t the only one who had noticed, but also it was relevant. “He said he broke his eyeliner pencil by accident and just hasn’t gotten a new one.” 

“Can he use yours?” 

“What? Ew! Luther, God,” Vanya sighs. “You can’t share makeup, you’ll get pink eye or something.” 

“But he has nail polish,” Luther continued, filing that little bit of information away for just in case. “You can paint his nails, right?” 

“Let’s go see.” They left the kitchen and went back to the great room, but Klaus had disappeared. Concerning, but hardly unexpected. An elongated search finally turns him up in one of the tiny attic rooms, with a small balcony overlooking the city, but far enough the noise of it all didn’t reach. He wasn’t crying, he wasn’t doing much more than sitting out on the balcony, staring up at the stars. 

“You found me,” he said without looking around, even though Luther was pretty sure they weren’t too loud on approach. Maybe ghosts keep him updated. Vanya went and joined him on the ground, but there wasn’t enough room for Luther so he hung back. 

“Come back inside, let me paint your nails,” she offered. Klaus didn’t move. 

“Maybe later.” 

“Come on, you haven’t painted your nails in a while,” Vanya pressed. “Let me do them for you.” The laugh his brother- _ their _ brother- let out was a little unhinged, but half the things Klaus did were unhinted. 

“I can’t. You can’t. Ben can’t. Ben tried, by the way, can you imagine that? Suddenly he can get corporeal and wants to paint my stupid nails.” 

“Why can’t we?” There wasn’t an answer, at least, not a verbal one Luther could hear, but Klaus shifted a little bit and they leaned in close together, and Vanya seemed to suddenly understand. “Oh. Has it… how long has that been happening?” 

“I thought it was withdrawal. Now, I’m not so sure.” Luther wanted to know, because Klaus’s voice had that far away sound and God, it hurt. The realization of that hit Luther a little awkward, almost one sided, like he should turn with the force of it. Hearing Klaus upset and broken _ hurt _ . It hurt _ bad _. Whatever was making Klaus upset Luther wanted to punch it. And that was stupid, but he couldn’t control it. 

“Let’s paint your toes then,” Vanya said, pulling Luther from his thoughts and Klaus to his feet. Klaus gave Luther a little wave as he passed, with his HELLO hand, and Luther saw it then, because he was really looking: Klaus’s hands were trembling. Badly. They had trembled at dinner and trembled during knitting and apparently they never stopped, and now it stood in the way of him getting his nails painted. They set up in Klaus’s room, Vanya gently taking his foot into her lap. Luther joined them on the ground, awkwardly trying to hunch his frame down. “Watch how I do this one, so you can do the other,” Vanya told him suddenly, smiling slightly. “You wanted to learn, right?” Luther nodded, moving to sit next to Vanya and observe what she did. Klaus curled up on himself, looking for a minute like he might pull away, might run, but he didn’t. 

* * *

After the toenail painting, Luther went out. He knew he’d find Diego at the gym, even if there wasn’t a fight tonight. Tonight, there was just a punching bag, with a picture of Reginald Hargreeves taped to it. “You look busy,” Luther said, leaning on the ropes of the ring. Diego didn’t look up, didn’t flinch, just kept punching. “Do you want to talk about it?” Luther asked, because talking seemed to be the healthy thing to do. 

“I didn’t know,” Diego told him, in between hits and kicks. 

“No one did.” 

“I should have.” Kick. Kick punch. Punch. 

“There’s a lot of should haves, ok?” 

“You don’t get it, Luther!” Diego finally rounded on his brother. “You were never there for him. Ok? _ Never _ . You never picked him up from rehab, you never detoxed with him, you never went to court with him. How many nights did he crash on your couch, huh? How many rides he bum off you?” Diego hopped over the ropes of the ring down to stand in front of Luther, sweat and anger glistening on his skin. “So what if you didn’t know? You didn’t know _ shit _ about him. I should have- fuck! I should have known, should have asked, should have done _ something _.” Luther glanced around the gym, they were alone at this hour. Slowly, still a little unsure, he removed his overcoat and took up the extra set of hand wraps from the chair. 

“If you don’t want to talk about it,” he said slowly, “let’s fight about it.” Diego wordlessly accepted, ducking back into the ring as Luther followed. 

“I’m the problem,” Diego growled, throwing a blow at Luther’s middle. Luther blocked with his forearms and shoved to put distance between them. “Every time I called him weak, told him he was a coward, how much you think that- that made him-” Luther was being pushed back and back by Diego’s assault. 

“You were there for him,” Luther told Diego, because it was true. At least, as far as Klaus seemed to indicate, it was true. Diego stopped his movement, stopped everything, and stood stock still in the center of the ring, his head hung.

“Not really,” he whispered. “Not… not really. When things were going well for me, when I was seeing Eudora, I… I told him to come back when he was sober, or not to come back at all. I didn’t want to-” Diego shook his head, hunched his shoulders. “God, the Academy, growing up- all of it, I wanted to keep it from her. And if Klaus showed up like he was, that would shatter it all.” Luther reached out to touch his shoulder, but Diego jerked away. “I- you know how many times, I heard police found a dead junkie, and my heart stopped? I couldn’t _ breathe _ , until I made sure it wasn’t him. And he- and he wanted to _ die _.” 

“Dad didn’t want us to know,” Luther tried, but he was feeling just as lost as Diego looked. “He knew everything that went on, all right? His worst nightmare is us sharing what was going on.” 

“Fuck Dad. Fuck Dad. _ Fuck Dad _.” Diego made like he was going to throw a punch, and Luther braced for it, but instead found his brother nestled against his chest, sobbing openly. Luther pat his back awkwardly. “We were right there, and he didn’t talk to any of us? Didn’t tell us?” 

“He thought we would call him weak.” 

“Fuck. We might’ve.” Diego bounced a balled up fist off Luther’s shoulder. “Do you- you would have, I know _ you _ would have, but-” 

“That’s not fair!” Luther cried, pushing Diego away to get a look at his face. “It- it’s not?” 

“You definitely would have,” Diego was mad again, despite the tears on his cheeks. “All you ever did was belittle him, and you never believed him even when he was telling the truth. No wonder he was afraid to tell us! You’ve done nothing but parrot what Dad told you about him for the last decade!” 

“Yeah, well, I’m not the only one!” Luther shouted back, giving Diego a shove. “You said it yourself, you called him everything I did. The only reason you helped him is because he went to you. If you moved, cut off contact, or- hey, maybe if you didn’t have a car, he wouldn’t have had anything to do with you.” Luther braced for another attack, but Diego backed up again, eyes narrowed. 

“We should have done more,” he said quietly. “We couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see past ourselves.” 

“He wouldn’t have wanted it anyway,” Luther reasoned. “What could we really offer, huh? Drugs got rid of the ghosts. What are we compared to that?” 

“If I could do it over I’d go back in time and tie that little fucker to a chair so he couldn’t hurt himself.” 

“What, you mean like Dad?” 

“Fuck. Fuck!” Diego shook his head, tears squeezing out from his clenched eyelids. “Why can’t this be easier.” 


	4. Things Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get better. Things get worse. Things get different.

Things changed a little bit. As time went on, they stuck to more routine. Dinner at 7. Therapy. Google said he should try and get everyone into physical activity, as working out was good for your mental and physical health. He considered taking everyone on a hike, but that was quickly shut down. So he found a yoga instructor to come to the house and teach them yoga. Luther considered going out, but that would mean just too many eyes on him, too much attention. 

Once a week, Brooke came over in her sporty hatchback dressed in spandex, her blond hair in a high ponytail and a bounce in her step. Her first time she was very energetic, and only stared a little at Luther in his overcoat. “So you said you wanted an hour session with your brothers?” she asked, looking around the great room.

“Yeah, it’s me and my two brothers,” Luther confirmed. “Maybe one more. We’ll see.” Brooke set down her mat and began stretching her tiny, lean body. 

“And where are they?” she asked pleasantly, but Luther could see the nervousness. 

“Last I saw them, they were arguing over who got what yoga mat,” he answered, taking a step back from her. Right on cue there came shouting, and Klaus practically flew down the stairs, cackling, holding a purple yoga mat over his head. Five came running down after him, a green yoga mat under his arm. “That… would be them,” Luther muttered with a wince as Klaus used him as a shield from Five’s rage. “Will you two stop?” Five threw his mat down on the ground. 

“I wanted the purple one,” he grumbled, and Klaus was darting around Luther to gather Five into a gushy hug. 

“Fight me for it!” he declared while Five struggled. 

“All right, you two, let’s get started,” Luther sighed, rubbing his temples. He had dressed for the occasion, sort of, with a pair of leggings under his overcoat. Five was wearing what they had worn as children for exercise, a simple t-shirt and exercise shorts. Klaus was in his favorite leather pants that laced up the sides, with no shoes or shirt but the dog tags still hanging around his neck. “Is… is this all we’re having today?” Klaus concentrated, and for a moment, all was still, his hands glowed blue, and Ben materialized in front of all of them. 

“If I gotta work out, he’s gotta work out,” Klaus announced happily. “Let’s get started!” 

Yoga, it turned out, sucked. And Luther sucked at it. So did Ben, which was nice to know, but he hadn’t had a body in years. And, well, Luther was still getting used to his. Ben gave up halfway through, opting to lounge on the couch and read and watch them. Klaus bickered with him about it, but was surprisingly having fun. And he was freakily flexible. Laying on his front, he could easily kick his feet up and over his head, placing them on the ground on either side of his chin, and that was terribly disturbing. Klaus would have far surpassed Five, who had a respectable amount of motion, if he bothered following what the instructor was doing. He got bored and moved through whatever poses he wanted, but he was having fun, so Luther tried not to get annoyed about it. 

“I met this girl, in Germany,” Klaus was saying, despite the fact Brooke had asked them to be quiet and reflective. “She could fire a bow and arrow with her feet, like, while doing a handstand.” 

“Shut up, Klaus,” Five growled. 

“What was her name?” Luther blurted out. Brooke looked at him disapprovingly, but he was paying her to teach them yoga, not to stand in between him and some potentially not horrendous story about Klaus’s life. 

“Lea,” Klaus sighed, rolling himself over and easing into the current pose. 

“Was she your girlfriend?” That made Klaus giggle, a lot of things Luther said made him giggle that way. Luther supposed his lack of worldly experience was amusing, but it didn’t always feel good to be laughed at. 

“I mean, we fucked, sure,” Klaus explained, “but it wasn’t anything like that.” 

“Did you say Germany?” Five asked. 

“If we could re-focus inward,” Brooke cut in gently. 

“Germany, where I met her,” Klaus answered, closing his eyes and smiling slightly. “We didn’t stay there long, though, we were both on our way to France.” 

“When were you- how did you even get to Germany?” Five seemed as annoyed as Luther at the story, because it just seemed so far fetched. Who would let Klaus on a plane? When had Klaus been sober enough to fly? Did he even have a passport? 

“Shh, Brooke wants us to focus,” Klaus whispered, smirking. Luther shook his head, despite how happy Brooke seemed. 

“No, wait, we’re doing that thing again,” he interjected. “I’m just… surprised, is all. I believe you, about going to Europe. We didn’t mean to sound like we didn’t believe you.” 

“Look, guys, I’m not your therapist, if you want to have family talks, we could do yoga another time,” Brooke tried. 

“You’re scaring off the yoga teacher,” Five pointed out. But Klaus was staring at Luther, staring hard, and Ben was even joining him in the weird staring. 

“I mean, I was there for a year,” he said softly. “I was twenty-two. So were you, I guess.” 

“Why Germany?” 

“Oh, no, I started in Italy,” Klaus explained, “but I was trying to get to Belgium.” 

“What was in Belgium?” 

“Waffles.” Luther’s head was spinning, and he felt like shouting at Klaus again, but he took a minute to think about it. Klaus was just… being Klaus, not trying to be annoying or say things to get under his skin. 

“Waffles, huh?” he asked. Klaus nodded emphatically. 

“Yeah, you know, like proper ones with powdered sugar and fruit. Like strawberries and stuff.” 

“We should make waffles,” Five said suddenly. “This weekend.” 

“It’s Saturday,” Luther told him gently. 

“So tomorrow,” Klaus announced. “Waffles.” 

They all got up in the late morning the next day and met in the kitchen. Klaus was terrible at following the recipe, but he did have a lot of fun stories about Europe. Their first attempt at waffles failed tremendously, but no one took it personally and their second attempt turned out edible. “We’ll get better at it,” Klaus reasoned as they squabbled over the syrup in the early afternoon light. 

“Yeah, we’ll try again next week,” Luther agreed. 

* * *

Things got worse. One evening, before dinner, Luther passed by Klaus’s door and saw him with shoes on, shoving clothes into a backpack. He knocked loudly on the door frame to announce his presence, and his brother’s head jerked up. “Oh. Luther. Hi.” 

“You, uh… you going somewhere?” he asked. Klaus shrugged. 

“I… yeah. Diego’s gonna come pick me up.” He wouldn’t look up, just stared down at his stuff and sniffed. 

“What’s going on? Are you… moving out?” 

“I don’t know, I just need some space, I just… I can’t stay here.” Klaus zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. 

“What changed? I thought things were going well.” Klaus brushed past him and started down the hall toward the stairs. 

“You gotta promise not to be mad,” Klaus whispered, coming to stand at the foot of the stairs with his head hung like a child. 

“I promise, all right?” 

“I… I almost relapsed, last night. I mean, I kind of did, I had the drink in my hand and everything, only Ben grabbed it away from me.” Klaus rubbed at his arm, looking thoroughly miserable. 

“What? But things were going so well!” 

“You know me, I don’t respond to stress well,” Klaus almost pleaded, turning his brimming eyes up to Luther. “I… I just gotta… fuck, I don’t know. I called Diego, he said I can stay with him, it’s gonna be fine.” Luther shook his head as Klaus continued toward the main entrance of the house. 

“Klaus, it’s not fine, I- this-” _ Don’t leave _ , he wanted to shout. _ I want to learn to knit with you, I want to make waffles on the weekends, you said you’d help me with a Tinder profile _. Luther said none of those things as he followed his brother. Diego was already at the door when they arrived, shoving his way inside and looking around angrily. Then again, that was how Diego did everything. 

“So, this is how it’s gonna be?” he demanded of Luther, glowering. 

“Diego, drop it, it’s fine, let’s just go,” Klaus murmured, trying to push past him to the foyer. 

“No, I’m not going to _ drop it _ ,” Diego spat, marching up to Luther. “Klaus may be a pushover, but now you gotta answer to _ me _, all right? Is this how you want things to go, big boy?” Luther held his hands up. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I-” He looked over Diego’s shoulder, tried to catch Klaus’s eyes, but the Seance was staring emptily at the wall. “I want you to stay, Klaus. This is your home, I- I don’t know what happened, to make you feel like it wasn’t, but I want to change that.” Diego threw open the doors to the great room, and Luther and Klaus trailed after him. 

“You gotta choose, then. Him or the booze.” Luther blinked in confusion, at the way Klaus was tugging at Diego’s elbow, eyes downcast. Was that all? 

“You don’t have to choose,” Klaus pleaded, “I’m going, ok? I’m going, you don’t have to worry about it.” 

“Klaus, do you really think I’d choose that stupid bar over you?” Luther asked, a little blown away. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” 

“I don’t even know anymore. For ruining your fun? For being a burden? For apparently needing constant babysitting?” Klaus threw his hands up in frustration. “It’s not worth it, ok? Trust me, it’s not.” Luther wanted to ask what he meant by that, but he took a second to figure it out himself. Was Klaus not worth throwing the booze out for? That didn’t sound right. Did Klaus really think that? Did he think Luther and Five would rather he moved out to Diego’s couch than make the house a safer, gentler place for him to be?

Luther didn’t really know what to say to all of that, or to how clearly Klaus seemed to believe it, so he took action. Moving as quickly as he could, as deliberately as he could, he went to the bar and gathered as many bottles possible into his arms. “You don’t have to,” Klaus tried to tell him, but what the fuck did Klaus know about loving him? Not a damn thing, apparently. 

It took several trips for Luther to dump every last bottle of alcohol down the sink. He didn’t know if there was any anywhere else in the house, if Five had hidden some in the library or his room, or if Dad had kept any in secret nooks. But the kitchen was free of alcohol, and now so was the great room. “I don’t know if that’s it,” he admitted. “That’s all from the liquor cabinet and bar.” 

“Don’t you think you should have asked Five before you dumped it all?” Klaus asked. “Some of that shit was over $500 a bottle.” 

“Shut up,” Diego growled, rounding on Klaus and grabbing his face. “Shut. Up. Ok? You are worth so much more than some stupid fucking whiskey.” Klaus didn’t look like he believed him, but he did fall silent. “And if Five has a problem with it, he can take it up with me. Got it?” 

“I’m sorry,” Luther announced. “I should have figured it out. I… I’m not good at this sort of stuff. So if something is wrong, if you need help, you gotta speak up, ok? I’m just a big idiot who needs things explained.” Klaus gave him a watery smile. 

“Sure thing, big guy.”

* * *

It wasn’t screaming that woke Luther up, but crying. That was never good, so he immediately got out of bed to go and find the source. He came upon a very strange scene indeed: Klaus, cuddling Five like a teddy bear, as they huddled on the hallway floor, both of them sobbing uncontrollably. 

“All that time alone,” Klaus was wailing. “Just you and Delores- fuck you must’ve been so scared, so alone!” 

“A war, Klaus?” Five was choking out. “Could never make it easy, could you? Had to stay and fight a damn war?” 

“And all of us dead!” 

“Ghosts-” 

“Alone-”

“And you lost him.” Neither of them could form coherent words after that, both of them blubbering embarrassingly. Luther decided the crying was all right this time, and slunk out as quietly as he could. He had thought it was his responsibility to fix his brothers, but maybe, it wasn’t about fixing. Maybe it was finding some more productive ways of living with their brokenness. And maybe it was a good thing their jagged edges were overlapping better now. It sure beat screaming matches. 

* * *

Things got better. Usually, things got better gradually, like slowly spending more and more time together. But after the booze was gone Klaus spent almost all his free time with Luther and Five. He spent more time outside of his room and weird office space, and abruptly stopped picking fights with Five. No one was on edge anymore when they were together, no one was worried Klaus was going to start yelling or throwing things. The tension in the house eased, dramatically. 

Then Dave showed up, and things got so, so much better. 

Five and Luther were playing chess in the library when they heard a scream from Klaus’s room. Unnerved, they both rushed to their feet and down the hall to see what was going on. Thankfully Klaus had left his door open so they could see just exactly how much was going on, and quietly backed away. “He’s made real progress on making ghosts physical,” Luther commented, because boy was that a surprise. 

“Real progress,” Five agreed, shaking his head and smiling despite himself. “Think we can expect him out by dinner?” Luther shrugged, a blush creeping up his cheeks. Love making was really not his purview. And certainly some of the sounds that were coming out of Klaus’s bedroom really only hammered that home. 

Klaus did come out of his room eventually, wearing just a pair of pants, and Dave trailing behind him like a lovesick puppy. “Yoo hoo! Family!” Klaus called as he came to the library. “You have to meet Dave!” Luther stood and extended a hand for a proper introduction, and got his first real good look at the guy. Dave was a smidge shorter than Klaus, but noticeably broader, with arms almost as strong as his jawline. Blond, blue eyes, clean shaven, and smiling politely. The most shocking thing was really that he was dressed in a pair of sensible khakis and a blue button down. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” 

“Likewise.” Dave returned the handshake firmly, before looking to Five. Five gave him a stern nod. “Oh so he’s the fun one.” Klaus snorted. 

“Do you two mind if Dave joins us for dinner?” he asked, smiling prettily. “I get that it’s kind of our little thing and all, but he just got here…” 

“Of course he’s welcome at dinner,” Luther hurried to say. “I can tell Mom to set an extra… uh…” Klaus was giggling, but Dave kept smiling politely. 

“He won’t be eating,” Klaus finally said helpfully. 

Dinner was pleasant, they had plenty to ask Dave about. Where was he from? What about his family? Did he have any interests? Dave had three older sisters and was 29 when he died. He was from Vermont. He had an avid interest in literature and art, and had almost completed a master’s degree in English literature and composition before he was kicked out of school and drafted. 

“You seem really normal,” Five said abruptly. “What’s the catch?” 

“Don’t be rude,” Luther admonished, but when had Five ever listened to him?

“Come on, Luther, there’s a normal looking man in khakis sitting at our kitchen table, trying to tell us he’s madly in love with Klaus. There’s gotta be something, right?” Five leaned in and scowled at Dave. “So what is it?” Dave shrugged. 

“I’m… flattered, really, that you think I’m normal,” he answered. “Back in the day, this wasn’t… well. It didn’t matter how clean cut you looked, now did it?” 

“What do you mean?” Luther asked. Daven didn’t really say anything for a moment, but he laid his hand over Klaus’s on the table. Klaus squeezed his hand back, and Luther briefly felt as if he shouldn’t be witnessing it at all. 

“I would have come to the future, with Klaus, had I lived through that war,” he admitted, “if something like this can be seen as normal.” Luther didn’t want to say that there was absolutely nothing normal about Klaus dating a ghost, but it really wasn’t the point. 

“Cute, you think we’re normal,” Klaus snickered. 

“I hadn’t realized things were that bad,” Luther admitted. Dave shrugged, but there was pain in his eyes. 

“Yeah. Things were… pretty bad. But not now, not nearly as bad, right?” 

“There’s work to be done,” Klaus told him gently. “But don’t you worry your pretty little head over it.”

“Gay marriage is legal,” Luther blurted out, a touch too loud. “You could. If you wanted to.” 

“Marriage,” Dave announced, “sounds awful. I would much rather state sanctioned orgies.” Klaus slammed his hand down on the table. 

“Babe have I got a book for you!” he gasped. “You’ll love it!” Dave beamed at Klaus, so sweetly, so gently. 

“Hargreeves, _ Brave New World _ was written in the 30s. I’ve read it.” Klaus blinked, mouth open slightly. 

“They had helicopters in the 30s?” Dave laughed. 

“Nah, we all went around on horseback. Lassoed shit. Ten gallon hats, now those were the days.” 

“This is all riveting,” Five interrupted, “but I’ve got just a _ few _ more questions. If it’s not too much trouble.” Dave leveled Five with a pleasant smile. 

“Shoot.” 

“Last name?” 

“Katz.” 

“Religious affiliation?” 

“I’m Jewish.” 

“Date of birth?” 

“I’m a Cancer.” Five blinked. 

“What?”

“You know, a tender water sign. I’m receptive, and highly sensitive.” Five just stared. “I’m apparently tenacious and _ very _ emotional.” 

“Oh boy. We got another Klaus, don’t we?” he muttered. 

“Another Klaus?” Dave sighed dreamily, batting his eyelashes. “Be still my heart!” 

“Ugh.” 

Dave was a cool guy. When Klaus could make him physical he spent time reading with Luther in the library, or playing chess with him. Most of the time, though, when he was physical he and Klaus spent intimate time together. Five was very against intervening in any sense, saying “let the kids have some fun”, but Luther thought it was prudent to remind Klaus to close his door. Not that such activities were even restricted to his room. 

And the _ noise _. Luther was unaware love making could be so loud, or have so many strange sounds. And shouting. In all honesty it was bizarre and confusing and embarrassing, and Luther could hardly bear to make eye contact with the couple sometimes. 

“Is that… normal?” Luther asked Five one afternoon, after he had come across Dave pulling medical staples out of Klaus’s thighs. Five shrugged. 

“I’m married to a mannequin, I really wouldn’t ask me,” he retorted. 

“I mean… is that the sort of thing other people are going to… expect?” 

“Trust me, medical staples are at least a level 8 sexual escapade.” 

The best part about Dave was how much he loved Klaus. When Dave asked about how things had changed, he didn’t mean how the world was different than the one he’d lived in. He wanted to know what had changed in Klaus’s life since they’d parted ways. When they weren’t laughing or making love, all Dave seemed to do was stare goopily at Klaus. Never did he engage in any teasing, well, not real teasing, not the way Luther and Five did. All he seemed to want to talk about was Klaus and how perfect he was. Which, in all fairness, was maybe something Klaus needed. Or maybe it was something he deserved. 


	5. A Gift Returned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five and Klaus repay Luther for all he's been doing for them.

“I still don’t see what we’re doing up here,” Five grumbled. “You look like you’re looking for your stash.” 

“I don’t have a stash,” Klaus returned, though he didn’t stop his searching. “It’s all gotta be here, though, right? Somewhere?” 

“If you told me what we were looking for, I could help,” Five tried, stepping into the office to join his brother. 

“We’re _ looking _ for Luther’s work.” And yeah, that was weird, but not nearly as weird as the wild kinky sex Klaus had been having non-stop with his ghost lover, so Five was happy to tag along for this particular adventure. 

“Why?” he asked, pulling back the carpet to reveal the hidden compartment filled with all of Luther’s unopened reports. Klaus whooped in triumph and scooped all the packets out onto the floor. 

“Let’s sort chronologically,” he murmured, tossing the reports around. “Think any of these have moon rocks? Yeah Dave, we went to the moon, get over it.” 

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Five pointed out, squatting next to his brother. Klaus looked up at him, blinking his eyeliner ringed eyes. 

“Hmm? Well, I figured, Dad didn’t give a shit, but that doesn’t mean no one gives a shit, right?” Klaus looked down at the reports. “I mean, no promises on if I’ll understand any of it, but I thought someone ought to take a look at his hard work.” 

“So is that what I’m here for? Understanding it?” Klaus rolled his eyes.

“You’re here because we’re both his brothers and we’re being _ good brothers _,” he shot. “Let’s get started, shall we?” Five wanted to leave. Five wanted to grab a drink. But Klaus was right, Luther had been good to them, they ought to give back. Klaus was already wheeling in a whiteboard, which Five was unaware they had, and throwing a notebook in his direction. “So you don’t have to write on the walls,” Klaus said smugly. 

“I’m not the only one.” 

“It’s art when I do it.” 

It was many afternoons later, when they finally had some semblance of sanity imposed on the reports. To be fair it would have been a little sooner if Five were allowed to work on his own, but it was Klaus’s idea and he seemed intent on seeing it through. What they ended up with was an enormous four year astronomical database, which they set to work digitizing. Well, Five went to work digitizing it. Klaus spent his time trying to cajole ghosts into doing it for them. 

“So what are we going to do with all of this?” Five asked eventually, as they sat on the floor of their father’s empty office, surrounded by Luther’s moon reports. He had some ideas, but he wanted to see where Klaus went with all of this. 

“You know something?” Klaus grinned at him. “Luther’s a good guy, but those dinner conversation topics need to _ go _. No way has he even read them before he says them. Remember when he asked us what superpowers we would choose?” Five chuckled, remembering that awkward conversation fondly. 

“Yeah, it’s endearing, but getting old.” 

“So. New conversation topic: the moon.” Five felt his stomach sink. 

“You’ve got to be joking. Luther has not _ shut up _ about the moon, and now you want to make every dinner conversation about it?” Klaus shrugged. 

“We could go back to his conversation starters. Maybe next he’ll ask us our greatest fears!” Five rolled his eyes. 

“Fine, fine, we’ll talk about the moon,” he grumbled. “But honestly, we should do something a little more productive with this stuff, don’t you think?” Klaus sat back on his haunches and seemed to consider Five for a long while. 

“And just what do you think we could do?” 

* * *

“Now remember,” Klaus told Luther as the latter fixed his tie in the hall mirror, “you need to lead with your sign. They’ll love it.” 

“For the last time, Klaus,” Luther grumbled, “I’m interviewing for the _ astronomy _ program.” Five popped into the room in a flash of blue light, thrusting a slim leather briefcase at Luther. 

“This has everything you need,” he told him seriously. “And if they have any brains at all they’ll accept you.” 

“And!” Klaus interjected, stepping in to re-tie the tie, “if they don’t, we’ll just donate a bunch of money and they’ll let you in anyway. Politics, right?” For a moment his hands hesitated. “I think a Windsor?” Luther waited patiently for the ghosts to confirm his idea, and then for Klaus to deftly execute it. 

“Don’t be late,” Five warned, tugging on Luther’s sleeve to get him going. 

“And call us when it ends,” Klaus added, “I want to hear how it went!” 

“Of course,” Luther told him seriously, because he never knew what was serious or not and had taken to using every opportunity to remind his siblings he cared. “I should get going.” 

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Five grumbled, urging Luther out the door with Klaus trailing behind them. 

“Have a good day at school, dear!” Klaus called out to Luther as he got in the taxi, waving from the open door. “Mommy loves you!” Luther waved back, before ducking into the taxi and being spirited away. Klaus and Five stayed in the open door a moment, and a moment longer when the taxi was out of sight, before retreating back inside. “Well, is this what an empty nest feels like? Should we take up scrapbooking or something? Or turn his room into a gym?” 

“Well, no, I think he’d like that,” Five replied as they came to flop down on the sofa. “We should probably take up crafting.” 

“I could go for some crafts,” Klaus said with a smile. “I don’t suppose you’re any good at knitting? Me and google have not made the best progress. I considered offering a witch my firstborn, but I don’t think that’s worth very much.” Five didn’t ask why Klaus had thrown himself into knitting, despite making little progress. He, too, when he had a moment of clarity, googled what sort of things could help with his brother’s condition. Knitting and other small activities had been recommended. And if he’d seen himself, maybe a little and maybe a lot, in his brother’s symptoms, well. That was his business. 

“Sure. You got an extra set of needles?” 


End file.
